


404 Error

by ChessThiel



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Major Character Injury, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6842437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessThiel/pseuds/ChessThiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The virus appeared seemingly out of thin air. It had no known origin point - no way to trace back to one. There was no system cleanser that could stop it or any firewall upgrade to prevent it. The war between Autobots and Decepticons? That they could handle. This war, between the living and the reanimated, they couldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transmission 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting of my story on FF, decided to bring it over here again! I have no idea if I'll ever finish this, but at least it's over here now, and I hope you enjoy it! If I do decide to continue this, know that my writing style has and will change!

In a dark room, the only source of light from a low overhanging lamp, a mech sat hunched over a desk; his plating filthy and optics dull. He dragged a cube from across the desk and brought it to his lips, tipping his head back and ex-venting harshly at the sensation of cool energon running down his pipe; a feeling that he had not had the pleasure of experiencing in quite some time.

"Startup for visual transmission"

A small, bright screen flicked online to the right of the exhausted mech,

 **2300 HRS**  
**OPEN LINK TYPE**  
**START TRANSMISSION?**

He nodded to himself, taking another drink, "Start Transmission, Polyhex and any receiving communication lines." A loading bar made its way across the screen, blinking a few times before a camera came online in front of him. He vented deeply and began.

_**TRANSMITTING TO [POLYHEX TOWER]** _

_Haven't done one of these in a few days...couldn't find stable equipment, so I apologize for that. Hopefully we'll be stopped here for a bit longer and I can take what equipment I need for other transmitters. I've started recording these as well while transmitting because, who knows, they might come in handy some day._

_It's now been 29 days since the virus first started –not sure if you can even call it that- it's now plainly obvious that this is not a regular virus that can be cured with a simple system cleanser or firewall upgrade._

_It's programmed…_ differently _than any others I've ever come across._

 _With standard viruses, they're passed to others by interaction through intimate energy field or access port interfacing but, with this one, it's passed through_ direct contact _. Meaning, it has to go directly in your systems in order for it to become active; if it doesn't make contact with your energon you're fine and it stays dormant. Those who are infected have done this by biting through plating, clawing through wires, and purging. Once anyone has contracted the virus, on average, they have 11 hours before their systems shut down and they offline…and then come back as mindless drones, "hungry" for Cybertronian metal. The longest recorded period before turning was 33 hours and that happened to a Brute –who are much, much, more powerful and resilient and this data should not be trusted on an average bot- while the longest period under my care was eight. So it varies depending on the bot._

 _The first systems to go are usually any that have to do with cleansing. Primarily, the optic cleansers. This results in energon, darker than normal due to lack of cleanser, oozing from optics. Usually when an infected has reached the 2 hour mark other crevices within the bots frame will start oozing energon._  
_Second thing to fail is the vocalizer. It is gradual but, static starts seeping into your sentences; your words become slurred and eventually you can't be understood. The vocalizer usually completely shuts down around 5 hours. There have been some mechs under my care that their systems have skipped this part of the shut down process.  
_  
_The third thing to shut down is mobility. Your wires seize up and become ridged…With every move of your joints, pain shots up that limb. Many mechs that come to this stage and don't lose consciousness say it feels as if they're made of glass that keeps shattering over and over again. This usually happens around the 7-8 hour mark.  
_  
_The fourth and final thing that fails before total shut down is the fuel pump. This happens in the final hour and is very quick. There's not much to say about this stage. They just slowly fade away…Unless you completely skip this stage. Some do depending on the condition their systems were in prior to the virus and how much how of the virus was transferred to them._

_They then completely offline and wake sometime later._

_No one has any idea why the infected eat the fallen. It doesn't seem like they need any substance to keep going because, well, like I said, they're just drones now. Fast, but, drones nonetheless. I've seen some with little or no energon at all still stumbling through the roads._  
_What I have noticed is that the longer they're up the slower they go. Newly infected, for example, are extremely fast and have been deemed "Racers" –very clever, I know, I'll bet my next cube that Swerve came up with it- And if one of them find you, you're royally fragged. Their senses are sharp and almost superior to the living bots'; the only way to get off their trail is to either climb a building or shoot them down._

 _Speaking of which, they can only be taken down by a shot to the spark. Two, just to be safe. The virus must be centered there, it's…source, if you will. Again, no one knows why. But seeing how they are no longer actual "beings" I'd say it's because their spark isn't theirs any more and only comes back to keep them going and a few main processors only – Thank Primus for small miracles – then only brings certain systems online.  
_  
_Shooting them in certain areas will slow them down as well but not by much, your best bet is to go for the head and if you can't do that, go for the legs. They'll keep dragging themselves towards you but at least they're slower._  
_But again, as I stated before, they get slower the longer they've been up. They start decomposing, I suppose, rust sets in very quickly seeing as how, technically, they're deactivated._

_…I've had a couple cubes of high grade if you couldn't already tell by my obvious deterioration of organized speech throughout this recording. Our group was lucky and found an abandoned energon refinery that still had some operational housing. One can hardly blame me for drinking a little more than I should._

_I don't know what else to say, really. We lost Gearwind yesterday. It was my turn to shoot. He pleaded for me not to shoot, that he was OK and he wouldn't turn because he still needed to reach his bondmate…Primus, I wish he hadn't have said that, it made it even harder than it already was._  
_I wasn't just taking his life…I was…_

 _So our group, including myself, is now down to eight: Prowl, Sunstreaker, Wheeljack, Red Alert, Skywarp, Skyfire and Perceptor. We picked up Skywarp on our way through Praxis. Found him surrounded by infected. We couldn't just leave him there, to be torn apart by those things…and, in this day in age, what good would come in leaving him anyway? One less Decepticon to take care of? Heh, no._  
_There are no Autobots or Decepticons._  
_There is only Us and Them._

_Been no sign of Prime or Megatron, either. No sign of anyone, really. Skywarp was the first mech we'd seen in a couple days. If Prime is still functioning he'd probably look towards Iacon and hole up in the Hall of Records… that is, if it's still standing._

_..._

_He's fine though, of course, why wouldn't he be? Ironhide and Sideswipe –please, Primus, let Sideswipe be OK- and Bluestreak are probably with him; Warpath, too. They're all fine, they have to be._

_..._

_I think it's time I sign off, seems the high grade is really starting to take effect. I don't know when I'll send another transmission; there's probably no one listening anymore. To be honest, I think I do this for my own sanity._

_If there_ _are any of you listening to this…I pray to Primus for your safety…_

_Till All Are One._

_Former Autobot CMO, Ratchet, Signing off._

_**[END TRANSMISSION]**_  
**000000000000_000038484ndhd_HD_88899200  
skj359wek  
****...**  
**setup transmission?**


	2. Absorb Rate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will be worded and written differently a little bit, because I'm seeing errors and my writing style has changed a bit! But, here you go!

"Sir, his dermaplating is severely damaged."

"What's his drink rate?"

"12% and dropping, sir"

"Frag. Absorb rate?"

"Lower." Ratchet switched off his welder and laid a firm servo on the leg in front of him. He looked up at Bumblebee and narrowed his optics. "Don't move, I'm not done the weld," he said. "Move and you'll tear your wiring, and I'll have to rip off your plating and start again what I just finished."

The medic stood up with a grunt and narrowly avoided hitting his helm on the low-hanging coolant tubes. With the war raging on in almost full swing and explosions going off in every direction it was getting harder to find stable buildings. Their previous station was ambushed by a group of Rouge Decepticon troops and they had only just managed to get away; losing five bots in the process of escape.

The building they were in now was run down and rocked on its foundation with every explosion within a 100 meter radius, but it was out of the way and hidden in piles of rubble. Not the most ideal place to set up a medical camp with all the rust, old equipment and caved in roof, but it was all they could find. Ratchet muttered a few curses under his breath, batting the tubes away, and walked the short distance to his assistant, Silvergear, who was bent over the unconscious mech on the medical slab.

"How's his sparkrate?"

"It's dropping, sir," Silvergear said and peered closely at the monitor across from them. "Spark energy is getting weaker with each pulse. Should I hook him up to another drip?"

Ratchet shook his head and grabbed the scalpel. "No, what I need you to do is put him under and get him ready for linkup"

"Sir?"

"He won't survive the next 10 minutes on his own. He needs a healthy spark and, seeing as he's lacking one at the moment, he gets to share one with this old bot." Ratchet severed already broken and dried up wires in the mechs side, putting clamps on the still active lines, and tossed the junk wires over his shoulder. He stole a quick glance up at the younger bot. "Don't stand there with your mouth open, get the linkup ready," He looked over his shoulder at Bee, who was still sitting patiently, and he chuckled. "You think you can hold on for a bit longer, kid?"

"Well, my leg isn't dripping energon anymore," the scout said with a laugh. "I think I'll be OK for a bit longer, Ratch"

Ratchet nodded and continued snipping off dead wires. He groaned when he reached the mechs tanks. "What is it?"

He looked up at Silvergear and quickly back down to his servos, buried deep in the mechs side. "His tanks," he said. "They're corroded and looks like they have been for a while...he must have had Tank Rot for a few months at least." Making a mental note to repair the mechs tanks once he was stable, Ratchet found the energon line and narrowed his optics in concentration. It was a simple enough fix but if the mech suddenly woke up and moved there was the risk of Ratchet severing the entire line.

"Is that linkup ready?"

"We don't have the materials for it, sir"

"What? I thought we brought that equipment?"

Silvergear stepped aside and gestured to the box behind him. "This is all we managed to grab from the facility, although we have some of the required materials we are missing several vital ones," -he glanced at the unconscious mech- "Should we let him be to offline?" he asked Ratchet nervously.

The medic stared down at his servos. They didn't have the supplies. They needed those supplies to preform the linkup. He looked back at Bumblebee who was trying his best to make it look like he wasn't listening in on the two across the room; fiddling with his digits and looking all around the room. "Turn off his pain receptors," Ratchet said quietly and grabbed a mesh cloth to wipe his servos of energon.

Silvergear watched his mentor make his way back to Bumblebee and looked down to the mech lying out on the medical slab. He hated not being able to do anything as much as Ratchet did. Made him feel useless. Everyone always thought medics knew everything, could do everything. They all thought they were miracle workers. But they weren't, and that was the reality that Silvergear had learned the hard way. He made a quiet whimpering noise as he unhooked the various tubes from the mech; turning off pain receptors as he went. The machines started beeping. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, turning away from the dying mech and shaking his head. "I should have grabbed more tools."

"It's not your fault, Ratch, I know you always blame yourself over this stuff," Bee spoke softly. "But it's not...The base was ambushed, there was no way you could have gotten out of there with both the equipment and your life." The young scout could hear the beeping from the machines and he immediately blocked it out and focused his receptors on the hum of the welder as Ratchet continued his repairs. "Don't blame yourself"

"If anyone is to blame, it's those damn rogues," Ratchet growled.

"I've known you long enough, Ratchet, I know-"

"Bee," Ratchet laid a gentle servo on the mechs' knee and effectively quieting him. "As a medic I am _always_ responsible. And _as_ your medic, I'm telling you to keep quiet and keep still so I can finish this weld." The beeping of the machines had stopped, replaced with a deadline tone, and Bumblebee could see the momentary look of pain flash in the older bots optics and he nodded; going back to the fiddling with his digits.

Silvergear fought to keep back his tears as he switched off the machines and took a deep breath. He had just let his patient die. He had just _let_ him die. His oldest friend. It was just like Praxis all over again. He could hear the screams echoing in his helm; could feel the dry and sticky energon on his digits; smell the sharpness of melted metal. He could see the others running all around him. It all replayed over in his mind. Electro shaking him and screaming for him to get off his aft and help. It was just like Praxis...except there were no screams. No energon on his servos. There was only the dull sound of explosions and the corpse of the mech who he considered a brother. Letting a quiet groan escape e his lips, Silvergear dropped his face into his servos and squeezed his optics shut. 

"You alright, kid?"

"Fine," Silvergear said quickly and straightened up. "Where would you like me to put the body?"

"Just clean him off, we can't do anything at the moment." Silvergear picked up mesh cloth with shaking servos and began wiping away energon on the body. There was a fair amount of energon around his mouth where, when he was first brought in off the field, he had coughed up. He went to wipe the energon from his chin, leaning over and against the mechs arm, when he felt it twitch. Just a slight tremor. Putting the mesh cloths down, Silvergear tilted his head. "Electro?" he leaned down closer to the mechs face and grabbed Electro's servo in his. "Electro?" he asked again and brought his other servo up to cup his friends cheek.

"I don't think he's fine"

"He's not," Ratchet said gruffly and reached for the buffer. "A bot only says they're fine when they're the exact opposite." The amount of times he had said it himself was proof of his statement.

"Electro?" Silvergear whimpered as the mech beneath him shuttered on his optics with a wheezing ventilation. The medic let go of his friend's servo and put it over his own mouth, muffling his sob. "Primus, Electro, you fraggin' afthead," he said with a smile; his voice cracking. "I don't know how you're still with us but, if you do that to me again, I'll make sure you wake up with your aft welded to the ceiling!" Silvergear continued smiling down at his friend and patted his cheek., "I'll get you all hooked up again, alright? Just hold on, yeah?" He turned his back to Electro to get the equipment set up again.

"Alright, you're all set, Bee," Ratchet said with a light knock of his knuckles over the freshly buffed metal. "Go up and stand watch with Ironhide and bring a cube up to him"

"Will do! Speaking of a cube...have you refueled today?"

"Excuse me, but who's the med-" An energon-curdling scream cut Ratchet off and his head snapped up. A strangled sound forced its way up through his vocalizer at the sight before him. His assistant being pinned down by the mech, who had been dead only seconds before, with jaws opened wide and tearing through Silvergear's neck. Both Ratchet and Bumblebee stumbled back and Silvergear reached out weakly for them; coughing up energon and letting out clipped words through the static of a torn vocalizer. Bumblebee grabbed onto the medics' arm and shouted out in fear.

At Bumblebee's shout, Electro's head snapped to the side, optics blown wide and let out a audio piercing shriek before clambering off the dead body of his best friend and lunging at the scout.


	3. Dark Energon?

Before Ratchet could do or grab anything the mech had already reached the scout and had sunk his denta into his neck, Bumblebee emitting a shriek of pain that dissolved into the gurgling of energon. Ratchet stumbled away and picked up the nearest object, an equipment tray, raised it over his shoulder, and brought it down onto the mechs shoulder. He brought the tray down again until the mech stumbled away and the young scout fell off to the side, Ratchet catching him in time before he crashed to the floor. The medic looked at Bumblebee's wound and cursed loudly. His entire throat was ripped out; the vocalizer torn in two and the main energon line hanging from his neck. "Ra..et..."

""You're going to be OK, Bumblebee," Ratchet said frantically and tightened his hold on the dying mech. "I just...I need you to-"

A shriek split the air again and Ratchet snapped his head up to see the mech jumping at him. He threw Bumblebee away from the mech and yelped when he was pushed to the ground by the mechs' weight and heard a snap. He grimaced and hoped that snap wasn't from him.

He gritted his denta and braced his forearm at the savages throat, keeping the snapping jaws away from his face. He turned his head away from when the mech started to drool dark ooze onto him and put more of his weight onto him, getting closer to Ratchet and almost grazing his chevron.

"Ironhide!" Ratchet shouted. "Hide!" He clenched his servo and tried to stop the shaking in his arm. His arm was going to give out from the weight. He wasn't going to be able to keep this up. "Ironhide!"

He felt the ooze drip onto his chevron and he grunted under the strain of keeping the mech above him, before shouting for the soldier again. "Ironhide! I need you!"

He heard the familiar pounding of the soldiers pedes on the steel floor and felt a wave of relief wash over him before he felt denta scrap over his chevron and his fear returned in full force. He gritted his denta again and tried to push the mech up. " _Ironhide_!"

"I'm comin'! It ain't easy walkin' through all this broken slag,"

The creature -Ratchet called it, as he was sure it was no longer a mech- snarled and thrashed around in obvious frustration at being so close to the medic but not being able to bite into his audio receptor. "Ratchet? What's goin' on down her-" Ironhide cut off with a strangled noise of shock. The soldier had walked in to the sight of his medic sprawled out on the floor with a snarling mech above him, snapping his jaws and baring denta down at him. Dark ooze falling from his parted lips and Ratchet squeezed his optics shut as it slid down his cheek.

"What the frag do you think you're doing?!" Ironhide yelled and easily lifted the mech off of Ratchet and tossed him to the side. "You got a death wish, slagger? 'Cause I can deliver!"

The mech snarled and swiped at Ironhide, who easily sidestepped the attack and looked taken aback at the move. "Kid, I'd suggest you stop right now if you wanna keep at least one of your limbs." The mech ignored him and lunged at him this time making Ironhide grunt as the mech fell onto him.

He wrapped a servo around his neck and punched him in the jaw, which, should have jogged his processors and knocked him offline for a few minutes, but the mech continued trying to bite off his digits. He punched the mech again and still he kept snapping at his digits. "The slag..." he muttered and tried it again but the mech only thrashed in his hold and Ironhide had to tighten his hold.

Ratchet pushed Ironhide and the mech apart and Ironhide opened his mouth to ask 'why the frag are you letting him go?!' but took a step back as the medic swung an equipment tray around and into the mechs face. "Ratchet!" he exclaimed and grabbed his shoulder but the medic shrugged him off and moved away from Ironhide's servo. Ratchet kicked the mechs legs, sending him crashing to the floor, and, turning the tray sideways, he brought the sharp edge down into the mechs optic.

Ironhide was frozen as he watched the tray being brought down again onto the mechs face and flinched at the enraged shriek from beneath the medic. He switched his gaze to Ratchet. The medics face had twisted into one of pure rage and, in all the years the solider had known him, Ironhide had never seen him this angry before. "Ratchet?"

The furiousity of his hits and the rate of his intakes caused Ironhide to take another step forward and place his servo on a shoulder again "Ratchet," he said firmly. "He's stopped moving."

Ratchet furiously threw the tray down beside the now dead mechs head and stumbled over to the medical berth, leaning against it heavily; wringing his servos around his neck and taking deep breaths. His optics were bright, brighter than normal with the speed at which his energon was circulating and the pulsing of his spark, and were wide and staring. "Primus, " he choked out. "What the frag _is_ this?"

"What the _frag_ is wrong with _you_!" Ironhide shouted and pointed down at the frame at his pedes. "You just _bashed_ this kid's processors in!"

"That _thing_ isn't a kid, Hide!"

"Not anymore he's not!" he yelled at the medic. "You're a medic! Aren't you the one that's supposed to put bots back together?"

Ratchet growled and bent down to pick up the tray again and threw it at the soldier, "Do you see that energon, Ironhide?" he snapped and Ironhide looked closely at the energon smeared over the metal. "Do you see how dark the energon is? That's not normal! There was _never_ been any record of something like this _ever_ happening!"

"Yeah, it's darker than it should be, so what? You kill the poor kid because he was probably experimented on?" Ironhide snorted. "That makes you almost as bad as the 'Cons,"

" _I_ didn't kill him! He had already flat lined, 'Hide!"

"What?"

Ratchet opened his mouth to explain but let out a sharp sound of despair when his optics landed on Bumblebee's form. His neck had been completely snapped back against his shoulder; attached only by his spinal strut. "Oh Primus, that's what the snap was," Ratchet whispered and covered his mouth, shaking his head.

Even though Ironhide was a bit afraid of his medic now, after the thorough deactivation of his patient that he had dealt, he took the few steps to stand in front of Ratchet and pulled him into an embrace. Ratchet returned the embrace tightly and squeezed his optics shut, letting Ironhide stroke the back of his helm and shush him gently. "Explain to me what happened, Ratchet,"

"I didn't kill him, Ironhide," Ratchet sighed as he moved away, pinching the bridge of his nose and gesturing with his other arm over to the body. "He was...He was going to flicker out on us if I didn't linkup with his systems, feed him the needed energy to stay online until I had gotten him stable." Ratchet paused for a moment and sighed again. "I thought we had grabbed all the required equipment to preform the procedure but, we didn't and there was nothing we could do. Not only had he lost energon prior to coming to me, his tanks were also severely corroded and...We had to just...let him go," Ratchet laughed, but it came out dry and hollow. "Obviously, he wasn't quite ready to leave."

"What do you mean?" Ironhide asked, his voice commanding and the medic shot him a glare. 

"Exactly what it sounds like I mean. He offlined and then he came back online and, well," Ratchet gestured hopelessly at the mess around the two. "He ripped through Silvergear's neck with his denta and then, before I could do anything, he did the same to Bumblebee and then came after me,"

Moving away from Ratchet entirely and taking a few steps away, Ironhide shook his head and looked up at the ceiling and the tubes hanging from it. He could hear the sound of plasma fire and explosions above them and off in the distance. He'd much rather be out there than in here. He knew what to do out there. "Primus, Ratch, what's going on then?"

Ratchet shrugged, "Your guess is probably as good as mine, in this case."

"Do you think this was the 'Cons?"

Ratchet shook his head. "I honestly don't know, Ironhide, it may have just be an isolated case. There's no way to tell right now," he reached out to Ironhide, who immediately took his servo in his and kept him steady on still shaking legs. "But we have to contact Optimus; tell him what happened and find out if it is isolated."


	4. Change of Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last of the chapters that were up on FF... ooh boy. I don't know if or when I'll write more chapters for this story, I DO want to finish it, like... I know where it goes and how it ends, it's just a matter of getting into it again, you know? Anyway, it'll be finished eventually at some point. In the meantime, head over to my blog on tumblr: ha-dran-iel   
> im on there p much everyday!

The soldier and medic picked their way up to the surface, mindful of the piles of dented steel, trashed medical equipment and sticky puddles of energon. Ironhide jumped up over a large pile and leaned down with a servo outstretched which the medic grumbled at but took hold of anyway, letting himself be hauled up over the debris. Ironhide went to take his servo from Ratchets' but the medic tightened his hold and Ironhide couldn't help but chuckle.

"Shut up," Ratchet muttered.

Ironhide just smirked but did as Ratchet said and kept his mouth shut. He knew that his mate was still a bit shaken and out of it from the entire thing. So was Ironhide. He was honestly terrified for a multitude of reasons. He had walked in on someone, or something, trying to gnaw through Ratchet's head and then, when he had punched the mech enough times to probably vause serious processor damage, it had kept coming at him. Then he watched his mate beat the mech to death with an equipment tray. That terrified him the most, watching Ratchet kill that mech. He didn't know what it all meant.

He trusted and believed Ratchet, of course he did, but what was one to think when they've witnessed what he had?

Ironhide led Ratchet out of the building and into the open. Ratchet tugged on their joined servos and Ironhide stopped, looking down at the slightly shorter mech. "You need to go round up every autobot you can find around here," Ratchet said firmly. "I'll go to the roof and contact Optimus,"

"But you're in shock,"

Ratchet rolled his optics. "I'm shaken, Ironhide, not in shock." Ironhide still looked unsure and Ratchet sighed, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. He smiled and patted his mate's cheek. "I'll be fine, 'Hide,"

"But-"

I'm a medic, you fraggin' glitch, I'm not in shock, " he said. " I think I'd know if I were and so would you." Ratchet pushed Ironhide away and began walking backwards towards the other side of the building, where a ladder was attached at the very far end. "Round everyone up, bring them to the roof." Ironhide nodded but sent his mate one last look.

"Be careful."

Ratchet nodded and turned around and run down to the ladder, skidding to a halt in front of it. He grabbed the side of it and quickly jumped up a few steps and continued climbing up quickly; skipping two steps at a time. He had to haul himself up over the edge on the last step - because the top of the ladder had been rusted so badly from lack of maintenance- and he grunted as the sharp, rusted metal dug into his sides.

He made a sound of disgust as he took in the small makeshift transmission tower with wires all over and around it; masking the panel itself. Dropping to his knees, Ratchet brushed the wires away and punched in a few keys before connecting to the tower himself, sending out a signal to Optimus' comm. ID, and anxiously tapped his digits on the hot metal of the transmitter.

_"Ratchet? What is it? Has something happened?"_

Ratchet almost breathed a sigh of relief in hearing his friends' voice, but reminded himself of the danger he had just faced. "Better question: Has it happened with you too?"

" _What do you mean?"_

"Hold on."

Ratchet checked the privacy of the line, layering it with another blanket of security, before explaining to the Prime. "Silvergear and I were treating one of the wounded, we didn't have the proper equipment to keep him online, there was nothing we could do," Ratchet paused and looked around him to make sure he was alone and coughed to cover his pause up. "We let him flatline...Optimus, he was _offline,_ his spark had gone out along with all of his processors and CPU, but he got up and _attacked_ Silvergear...and then Bumblebee; killing them both,"

" _You are sure he was offline before this?"_

Ratchet glared at the transmitter in answer but then remembered that the Prime couldn't actually see him. "I've seen enough patients offline, Optimus," he growled. "I'm sure,"

_"...I had hoped my optics were simply malfunctioning,"_

"Are you," -Ratchet paused and pinched the bottom of his chevron- "Are you telling me that you've lost a few nuts and bolts too?"

_"We are both as sane as we were yesterday."_

The medic snorted at that and almost laughed. "Because that helps my case, Optimus. I'd _rather_ just be told I've gone off the edge, than be told the offline are coming back,"

_"I experienced something very similar to you. A pair of mechs, Decepticons, were huddled underneath some rubble. One was offline and the other babbling in, what I assume was, shock. And then-"_

"The mech came back online and attacked the other." Optimus confirmed the finishing statement with silence and Ratchet vented. His voice trembled noticeably when he spoke next. "If this happened to a pair of 'Cons, then it couldn't have been their doing,"

 _"I do not think so, no,"_ \- an explosion sounded on the Prime's end and a soft curse followed- _"Ratchet, this is bigger than we thought, I need y-"_

The line cut off in static and Ratchet cursed, trying to re-establish some connection, but the signal wouldn't send out. He growled, clenching his servo and slamming his fist on the side of the panel. "Of-slaggin'-course it goes out on me during all of this," he shouted in frustration as he ran back to the ladder and slid down it. "I knew we should have built it higher up."

As soon as his pedes touched the ground he heard a snarl from behind him and, whipping around and taking out a scalpel hidden in his wrist, he clamped a servo to his mouth at the sight of his assistant tangled in the tower wires; snarling at him, dark blue -almost black- energon falling from his mouth in streams.

He kept his arm outstretched and scalpel pointed at Silvergear, who was unphased by the, in the right servos, lethal object and continued snarling and reaching for the medic. "Primus, kid," he breathed. "This is a real mess."

Ratchet came as close as he dared and forced himself to not take a step back as digits almost grazed over his chassis. Silvergear spat energon at him in response and Ratchet stepped to the side, dodging the surprisingly well aimed shot of energon. He stepped closer and lifted his leg, resting it on the mechs midsection and pushed. The mech stumbled, his arms flailing in the air and a angry shriek, laced with static came from his vocalizer and he tripped over a tangle of wires and fell backwards onto a metal rod. Ratchet gritted his denta and looked away from where Silvergear had fallen and tried to ignore the scraping of metal-on-metal coming from the mechs' struggling and he shook his head fiercely.

"Ratchet! Ratchet!"

"'Jack!" The medic ran to his friend and shielded him from the gruesome scene behind him, clasping the engineers servos' in his own. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, fine, don't worry about me!" he exclaimed. "Somethings wrong, Ratchet, somethings horribly wrong. The offlined are-"

"Coming back online and attacking everyone, I know. Are you hurt?"

Wheeljack shook his head and his earfins flashed nervously as he looked from side to side. "No, no, I got away from her before she could get to me. Primus, Ratch, what's going? Where's the kid? Silvergear?"

"Behind me," he moved with Wheeljack as the inventor tried to look around him and Ratchet shook his head quickly, grabbing his friend's servo and beginning to run back to the entrance. "No, you don't want to see it, believe me. Come on, we have to get inside the building,"

"Shouldn't we be getting as far away as possible?"

"From my understanding, this isn't just happening here, 'Jack. It's happening up in the city too." Wheeljack dug his heels in the ground and jolted Ratchet to a halt. He looked at the medic and shook his servo free from his to grip Ratchet's shoulders. "Ratchet, say that again,"

"It's everywhere, Wheeljack. And it's affecting everyone. Not just 'Bots. This isn't Decepticon manufactured,"

"How can you be sure?"

"Megatron may be cruel, but he wouldn't experiment on his own troops. Not like this, when they are so unpredictable," he paused before adding, "Maybe Shockwave would, but not Megatron."

Ratchet started forward again, this time at a light jog, and Wheeljack kept pace with his friend. They turned the corner to the front of the building and Ratchet let out a breath of relief at seeing Ironhide and a couple dozen other 'Bots gathered in front of the building. He waved his free servo at Ironhide, who returned it with a wave of his own and beckoned him closer. "You were stationed down a ways,"

"I was, yes," Wheeljack replied with a nod.

"It didn't just happen here, 'Hide," Ratchet said. "It happened at Wheeljack's station and in the city,"

Ironhide furrowed his optic ridges. "The city? Were you in contact with Optimus?"

Ratchet nodded grimly. "The same thing happening here is happening in the city." He looked to his left, where the tall buildings of said city were and his optics strained to see anyone coming over the ridge. Either a running, online bot or shambling-turned-cannibal bot, he didn't care which he saw, he just needed to know what was happening in there. "Our transmission was cut short after I heard an explosion on his end,"

"He's offline?"

No," Ratchet said sharply. "The transmission was cut on _our_ end from...interference, down below in the powering cords." He cleared his vocalizer and looked around at the confused and mumbling bots around him. "Have any of you been bit, scratched, or purged on?" he asked loudly so as to get their attention. "Come on, speak up. If you're shy, you'll be offline,"

"You mean you'll offline us like you did Bumblebee? And that other poor mech?"

The three mechs turned to the voice behind them and Bumblebee's corpse was thrown at their pedes and the group behind them all gasped. Wheeljack took a step back from it and almost fell but Ratchet, without taking his optics off the corpse, grabbed his arm and kept him upright. "Is that what you'll do, traitors?"

"What?"

"Or have you been 'Cons since the beginning?"

The mech walked up to Ironhide so their faces were mere centimeters apart and his optics narrowed into slits up at him. "What made you do it, huh? Did they offer you an endless supply of energon? Mega weapons?"

"No one offered me nothin', kid," Ironhide hissed. "I'd suggest backin' up if you want to keep your optics,"

"Come and have a go then, Decepticon." Ratchet put a servo to Ironhide's chassis and the other to the shorter mechs', pushing them apart and glaring down at the bot. He knew this one. He was a frontliner, up with the Twins; a mech that you had to be cautious around. "No one is losing their optics today, alright?"

"You might lose yours in a second, you outdated piece of slag,"

The medic's optics slitted dangerously. _Frag being cautious, this kid needs to know his place._ "Stand down," Ratchet said darkly and pushed the mech back farther, placing himself in between the two. "I don't want to pull rank, but I will."

The shorter bot glared up at Ratchet and the medic held his gaze, preparing to block the fist that would surely be sent in his direction. He could sense Ironhide tensing up behind him and he held up his servo, signalling to his mate to let him handle it. He heard a snort and had to resist the urge to smirk. "It's your move, kid,"

The mech opened his mouth to speak but instead of hearing words they all heard a high pitched shrieking. He closed his mouth, clutching his throat and scrunching his face in confusion, but the shrieking continued. The group of mechs looked around and started shouting out questions as to where the sound was coming from. Sound tended to echo everywhere out here on the outskirts of the city and it all bounced and drifted everywhere.

Ratchet turned to the group behind him, where he was bombarded with questions and fear. He put his servo up, same as he did with Ironhide, and the group slowly quieted their vocalizers; looking at him expectantly, fear in their optics. He knew where the sound was coming from and what it was. So did Ironhide and Wheeljack, but did any of these gathered mechs know?

Ratchet took a deep breath. "Are any of you aware of-"

"I made my choice."

The medic quirked an optic ridge, turning back around to face the mech and he grunted in pain as a fist connected with his right optic, almost cracking it. He stumbled backwards and held a servo to his face, bringing it away and letting himself feel a small relief at the absence of energon on his digits. "Fraggit!" he cursed and looked up at the mech, who was bouncing on his pedes and in battle stance. "Stand down!"

"Ratch!" The engineer shouted and rushed to his side. "Are you OK? Let me-"

"I'm fine," he muttered and brushed off Wheeljack's worrying servos, not breaking his optics from the soldiers'.

"Yeah, but he won't be," Ironhide growled as he strode forward to tower over the mech who had punched his medic. "You got some real nerve touching an Autobot medic like that while a Weapons Specialist, who happens to be that medic's mate, is watchin'."

Before the mech could even react Ironhide had rocketed forward and dug a fist into his midsection, grabbing him by the shoulders, and slamming the mech down. He planted a heavy pede on his chassis and curled his lip, glaring down at him.

"Ironhide, stop!" Ratchet shouted, ripping him away from the soldier trembling beneath him with the help of several other bots. "Control yourself!"

"I will when he does!"

Ratchet smacked him on the side of the head, "Now is _not_ the time for your possessive temperament," he hissed.

"He _punched_ you!"

"And I'm fully capable of looking after myself, Ironhide! You're a commanding officer, so act like one!" An explosion came from the city and the ground shook; the tremors almost knocking the group over. Ratchet looked down to the mech, who hadn't moved from his spot and was still looking up at Ironhide, waiting for another attack. "Come on, get up," Ratchet said gruffly and hauled the soldier to his pedes.

"There's 'Bots coming over the ridge!" someone called and several other bots starting shouting as well.

"I see Prowl!"

Ratchet squinted his optics and saw that it was indeed Prowl leading a squad of mechs over the ridge, falling to the ground as he jumped and scrambling to his pedes. The SIC looked behind him, shouting something, waited for the group to jump down and continued running.

"Wait..." Ratchet murmured.

Prowl, for the first time in his life, was terrified. This didn't happen. He didn't get terrified; not like this. He tripped over his pedes and scrambled back up, looking behind himself in a panic and cursing loudly. They were coming over the ridge. He could hear the wails and see their helms. More Autobots slid down the ridge, some of them crumpling to the ground unmoving, others immediately running past him. Prowl transformed and floored it.

Some of the mechs had begun running towards the bots and Ratchet shouted from them to stay but they ignored him and kept running. "Fraggit!" he cursed and drew one of Ironhide's blaster from the holster on his hip, firing it in the air a couple times. There at least 40 Autobots running towards them

"Ratchet!" Wheeljack called from where had climbed on top of the building. "There are more coming over the ridge, but they don't look like ours!"

"'Ours' meaning _what_ , Wheeljack?" he yelled back up, holstering the blaster and looking up at Wheeljack. "Is it Decepticons?"

The inventor shook his head, staring out to the ridge where he could see bots falling over the edge and stumble back to their pedes. He could see dark ooze dripping from their mouths and almost every inch of their frames. "Primus," he breathed.

"Wheeljack! What did you mean!"

Wheeljack choked on his vocalizer as he watched one of the slower bots go down with a scream and another crawled on top of him. Digging it's face into the bots' chassis. "Not ours, not ours!" he shouted and jumped down from the building, rolling on impact and jumping back to his pedes. "Not anything!"

Someone yelled for the three of them, who were standing alone now that the other bots had run to meet the others, and watched as Prowl skidded to a half in front of them and transformed. He was panting, his optics bright and his fans were whirring. "You need to move," he said firmly. "We need to move and get away from the city,"

"How bad is it?"

Prowl looked to Ratchet, who he assumed already knew what they had to get away from. "It's bad enough," he said. Whatever _it_ is, he thought. Shrieking was heard in the distance again combined with the wails and screams of bots, both mech and femme types. Bots were _pouring_ over the side of the ridge now, all reanimated, and the four gathered mechs took steps back. "Guys?"

"Yeah, 'Jack?" Ironhide asked.

"I'm thinking we should all run in the other direction now,"

"Good plan."


End file.
